


rekindling

by fan_nerd



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, Writer AU, repairing relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:48:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fan_nerd/pseuds/fan_nerd
Summary: Victor stands on Yuuri's doorstep in the pouring rain with a bouquet of flowers. It's the middle of the night. The tall man is out of breath, soaking wet, and his eyes are red.Yuuri sighs, letting his ex-boyfriend in like the sympathetic fool that Victor knows he is. "What are you doing here?"He hurries to catch his breath and reply, but his mouth is dry.Victor doesn't exactly have an answer to that question.





	

**Author's Note:**

> episode 11 gave me heartburn,,, ;A; no spoilers in this fic tho.
> 
> ilu fandom, as always, thanks for your support ♥

Yuuri's been known to keep hilariously irregular hours when he gets into the thick of work. He hunches over his laptop at one a.m. and slams at the keys, hating every word that he writes and desperately trying to convince himself that every paragraph is great; that somebody is going to pick this book up and fall in love with it because of that one sentence.  _This_  one. The one he's currently spent an hour slaving over.

He kicks his legs underneath the desk as he slumps back in his office chair, groaning. It just isn't fucking true. This chapter in the third book of his series, the stupid one that he had initially published online, is just garbage. Honestly, if he weren't thirty thousand words deep into it, he'd just scrap the whole novel and start over. Although he would never admit it to any self-respecting journalist, or to any of the dozens of shop owners who have had him host talks over the last five years, he started writing the thing when he was drunk and angry, his friend had goaded him to sell it, and suddenly here he is, a best selling writer without a damn thing to write.

Writing was easier when the frustration was still fresh.

He sits and dabbles with the keys until he's yawning and blinking tears out of his eyes at two in the morning. Yuuri is about ready to pack it in when someone starts knocking on his door like a fucking  _insane person_. The noise is so unexpected that he falls out of his seat. He immediately panics and his heart races, because he's sure that some lunatic has come to rob him for all that he has, which, honestly, is not much outside of his wallet. He jumps to conclusions and straightens his glasses, scrambling to the door with his cell phone on  _Emergency_ in case he needs to hurry and call the police.

Yuuri goes to the glass panel of his front door and forces himself to look through it even though he kind of wants to scream. His eyes land on a somewhat familiar face and he groans, putting a hand to his chest and locking his phone screen.

He opens the door with a scowl. "You _do_ know it's two in the morning, right?"

"Yes," his ex-boyfriend sneezes in the opposite direction of the bouquet he's holding and Yuuri sighs. "Sorry."

Even though he wants to kick himself directly in both shins, he opens the door a little bit wider. Thunder is cracking the background, Victor is shivering, and rainwater is dripping from his coat. Yuuri hasn't physically seen him in years, and yet, there he stands like an idiot with peonies and daisies or something like they've just had a particularly draining fight the night previous. "Wait there," Yuuri grumbles, still trying to settle his heartbeat. "I'll get you a towel."

Victor stands there obediently, refusing to move, as if doing so will earn him a lecture. It's probably better that way, because Yuuri's not entirely sure he's not going to get one anyways. Who the fuck does he think he is, showing up soaking wet in the middle of the night out of the blue?

Yuuri climbs up the stairs and laughs at his own thoughts. He knows. Victor Nikiforov; A-list actor; the most dramatic man in the universe. The question is, as it always has been, whether Victor himself is aware that he's being a massive shit. The answer is usually no, he isn't.

He comes back downstairs and throws two fluffy blue towels over Victor's head. "Just leave the flowers on the mat." He's fairly sure he knows why the other man brought them, and even though he's  _livid_ that Victor did it, there's no point in refusing to put them into a vase. His other option would be to throw them out, to prove a point, but Yuuri knows that flowers are expensive.

Truly, the man can make all the excuses he wants, but Victor  _does_ know him, unfortunately all too well, and Yuuri has always had a weakness for beautiful flowers.

After he puts them away, he patters around the kitchen and turns on the kettle, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

Victor looks up from under his damp lashes. Yuuri is a bit too far to see well, but even from his spot, he can tell that Victor's eyes are puffy. Either he's been crying or he hasn't slept well. Maybe both. Victor opens his mouth, so Yuuri crosses his arms and waits. Instead of receiving an answer, Victor closes his mouth again and looks down at his feet. Yuuri sighs and digs through his cabinets for loose leaf tea.

Yuuri watches as Victor kicks his shoes off, gently folds his coat, and looks around like a lost puppy for a hook. Yuuri just gives him a stare, so Victor folds it up and hands it to him. Yuuri motions for Victor to take a seat at the kitchen island, saying, "I'm going to toss this in the dryer." The taller man nods and he slinks away for a moment, head still reeling.

The clock ticks past two-thirty when he pulls out two mugs, honey, and his teapot that has a strainer inside. Once they finally sit several feet away with piping hot cups of a strawberry-themed herbal, Yuuri blows on his tea and waits. Victor finally speaks, and his voice is hoarse. "Why I came..." His voice is still velvety, the lilt of speaking his second language bringing a certain allure to his hugely famous persona. "It's a long story."

Yuuri sighs and takes a long sip of his tea, pushing the spoon away from his nose. "Yeah, I figured. How'd you find this place?"

"I asked around," Victor replies softly, coughing lightly. "Sorry."

"You're here now." Yuuri stares at him and tries his best not to let his temper grow hot.

Victor opens and closes his mouth a couple more times, taking a break to sip his tea before he says, "I read your books."

Back in the day, when they were young and hopeful and disastrously in love, Victor had giggled about his lyrical writings and mused that Yuuri ought to be published and lauded. Now, here he is, not only both of those things, but also financially accomplished and Victor hasn't been around to witness any of his glory. They both look a hell of a lot worse than they did five and half years ago. "And?"

"They were beautiful," Victor smiles fondly, looking at the liquid swimming in his cup. Yuuri is frustrated to find Victor handsome and to find that he still values Victor's opinion. The first should be obvious - he's still making millions of dollars for his looks, while Yuuri could stand to lose a few pounds and his vision is only getting worse. The second he doesn't have an excuse for. "I loved them." They both sit in tense silence before Victor opens his mouth again. "We need to talk."

Yuuri's mouth goes dry at the words. When he regains his composure, he feels drained and he replies, "It's too late for that." He doesn't intend for the words to be a double entendre, and he can read the disappointment creeping over Victor's face. "I mean,  _literally_ too late. It's three in the morning, Victor." Truthfully, Yuuri is pretty sure he knows what Victor's going to say. If he can dig deep down within himself to find the strength to admit this, he wants to talk too, but it's the middle of the damn night and he's sleepy. "Let's talk tomorrow." Victor stands like lead is in his limbs and Yuuri watches him wander to the door like an idiot. "Where are you going?"

"To find a hotel," Victor says, stifling a small sneeze. "I also have to call a cab."

"What?" Yuuri gives him a stern look. "Listen, we might have our issues, but I'm not letting you go out in this, especially without your coat. Stay on my couch."

Victor averts his gaze and quietly murmurs, "I couldn't."

"You  _can_ , and you will," Yuuri huffs, pacing into the living room to fetch blankets for the other man. "You've already come into my house uninvited. You might as well stay the night."

Victor apologetically bows his head. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well," Yuuri grumbles, "You should be." After he washes their dishes, he heads upstairs, turning off all the lights but one. "Good night."

Victor looks up with his glossy blue eyes, smiling pathetically. "See you in the morning."

//

Victor wakes to the sound of Yuuri grunting at his computer screen, typing furiously. Ages ago, this had been a familiar scene, albeit with very different context. Back then, Yuuri had worked a job at a bowling alley to pay the bills, coming home to work himself up to the task of submitting his work to writing journals for competitions. Victor had just gotten his foot in the door for a handful of somewhat popular television shows and one multi-million dollar theater production. They had both been exhausted, but they'd happily shared their sleepy mornings together.

He can no longer walk up and kiss Yuuri softly on the cheek, calling him all kinds of pet names. Instead, he wakes and is cautious not to make much noise. His stomach gurgles and Yuuri turns around, having heard the sound. Yuuri smiles a bit at that and asks, "Hungry?"

"Starving," Victor admits. He hadn't eaten anything since he'd rushed to Yuuri's home from the Detroit airport the night previous. Yuuri piddles around for a bit until he gathers two small bowls of cereal. He doesn't give Victor his bowl right away, because he still remembers that Victor likes his cereal soggy for some awful reason. Their spoons clank against porcelain for several minutes until Yuuri slurps his milk and Victor follows suit. They sit through another awkward silence before Yuuri coughs and Victor sighs. "So, shall I start?"

"Sure," Yuuri says softly, closing his laptop, "Go ahead."

"I was -  _am_ \- tired," Victor begins, trying to keep the exhaustion he feels down to his bones from seeping too far into his facial expression. "I just...I never really got over you, and it was a mutual decision to break up, I know," Yuuri eyes widen at that and Victor continues, "but I just...wanted to talk. I was impulsive, and I'm sorry I came to your new place in the middle of the night, but that's why I came."

"You could have... _called_ , or something. I never changed my number or blocked you." Yuuri stumbles over his words, so exceedingly pissed off that he nearly yells. "God forbid you  _ask_ me to see what I say first."

"You used to  _like_ that I surprised you," Victor mumbles tiredly, rubbing his eyelids. "I got carried away, I know."

Yuuri deflates automatically. "I'm just...overwhelmed, I guess. You know how I get."

"No, Yuuri," Victor's voice comes out like a soft plea. "I don't." They haven't seen each other in six years. It's been more than enough time to forget each other's personalities, habits, _everything_ , and yet, neither of them can really forget  _all_ of it. Before their breakup, they had been together just as long, through the end of their awkward twenties and partway into their thirties before the messy parting. "I just feel like, no matter what I did, you always wanted to push me away, and  _you_ made the choice for what you thought was better for  _me_ , and I'm just," Victor trails off for a moment before huffing out his breath. "Tired. Of that. Of thinking about it without really  _knowing_. So," he spreads his arms wide and smiles self-depreciatingly, "here I am."

Yuuri draws in a deep breath, truthfully floored by his words.

This time, he is the one left without anything to say, opening and closing his mouth without a single word coming out.

After a long pause, he dallies around the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Yuuri fishes around for cream and sugar and finally mumbles, "What was I supposed to do?"

Victor leans forward and purses his mouth. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, what was I supposed to do!" Yuuri slams his sugar container down and valiantly works to smother his oncoming tears. "You were, god, you were just so... _perfect_. You were on your way to becoming a movie star and I was a washout, some stupid nobody writer getting paid to write articles about teenagers in Detroit and polish bowling balls. You wanted to take me fantastic places and spoil me rotten - do you know I don't remember paying for a damn thing those five years we were together?"

Victor blinks in silence, shaking his head for fear that he'll say something inexcusable if he opens his mouth.

"You were  _always_ good to me. Too good, and I just." Yuuri sobs and Victor thoroughly wishes that he felt comfortable sweeping Yuuri into his arms, but he doesn't. He hasn't earned Yuuri's trust. "How was I supposed to deal? I had to see you  _everywhere_ I went. People kept asking me all sorts of questions, but you were patient with me and you helped me answer them. You worked hard to make things easy. I can't believe I made it five years without breaking down on your ass, and I'm upset that I'm doing it right now." Yuuri angrily reaches for paper towels to dry his eyes and blow his nose. "I never wanted you to see this.  _Me_." Yuuri sniffles and Victor himself feels like tearing up too. "You deserved to be happy without me."

"That's it?" Victor says tiredly, giving Yuuri a deeply unimpressed look. "You had us reach a peaceful breakup because...you were worried about having an emotional fallout?"

" _No_ , you asshole," Yuuri mumbles, leaning his head on the counter. "You gave  _everything_ to your career. I know you cared about me. I  _know_. But you always cared about that more." Victor opens his mouth to protest and Yuuri holds up a hand. "I couldn't play second fiddle to all those film crews and wrap parties forever. I'm an introvert, and all of that just wasn't for me." Finally, he makes some modicum of pulling himself together to finish making the damn coffee like an adult, even though his cheeks are still tacky. "I'm happier now, writing books."

Silence falls until he finishes making the coffee.

He leaves an empty mug for Victor when he pads away, laptop in hand, because he can't stand to be in the same room anymore.

//

Victor stays for a few more hours, waiting somewhat impatiently for Yuuri to wander back to the kitchen. He dozes partway through the day, flipping through channels on Yuuri's couch. He even runs in place for lack of going to the gym, and when he hears feet padding down the stairs, he looks up expectantly.

He watches Yuuri make himself a sandwich without a word, but before Yuuri can creep back up to his private space, Victor clears his throat and holds out a piece of paper. "Here." He waits for Yuuri to take it and continues, "My new private number. Could you, um, let me out?"

Yuuri blinks, giving him a somewhat dry look. "Yeah, let me grab your coat." He wanders away and comes back with the fluffy brown number and watches as Victor shrugs it on. The sun is shining, so there's no danger for him to give a cab service a call and drive to a hotel up to his standards, and Yuuri just waits anxiously for his ride to arrive.

"Hey, I'm..." Victor inhales shakily, blue eyes screwed shut while he forces a smile to his face. "It was good to see you again. I missed you."

Yuuri's mouth goes dry and he barely manages to croak out the words, "Yeah, I'm..." He chokes, clears his throat, and whispers, "Me too."

As he gets into the cab without a damn thing in his hands, he somberly blurts out, "We should talk again soon. I won't go back to L.A. until next week."

Yuuri tries to play it cool and fails miserably. "I, uh. I can't promise anything. My editor wants to meet with me some time soon to talk about my progress, so we can brainstorm the final third of my book, but...I'll try to keep you in mind."

"Okay," Victor says, sliding his hands into his pockets with a soft smile. "That's all I can ask."

"Bye." Yuuri waves to him with a conflicted expression.

Victor's look is equally complicated as he waves back. "Bye."

//

Yuuri's meeting with his editor is, quite frankly, shitty.

He's had tons of words pouring out of his brain since his impromptu reunion with his ex. The characters in his novel are taking place, getting animated, sweeping through the streets in a somewhat fictional town in the US, and they're all equal parts passionately driven and desperately searching for answers. To say the least, he's been venting through them, and it shows.

"It's not bad," Celestino hums airily. "Honestly, this is a lot better than some of the stuff from last month, and I'm really excited to look over the whole chapter and give my feedback. What changed?"

Yuuri tenses. "It's personal."

"Alright," Celestino compromises easily. "So, where do you want to take this story from here?"

Yuuri grunts and slumps down on the table at the café. "I don't  _know_ , Celestino. I don't know!"

His editor sighs and kicks back in the chair. "Listen, if you're not ready for this, we can meet up another time."

Yuuri snaps up, eyes wide. "I'm sorry. Shit, I'm so sorry." He takes a long swig of his coffee and presses his lips into a flat line. "I know I need to focus. I know." His dark eyes dart around and finally come to meet his editor's. "Hear me out?"

"Slow down, you're mumbling."

"Yeah, sorry," Yuuri apologizes again, still mumbling. "My ex came to see me a couple nights ago."

"I take it that didn't go well," the older man says, fiddling with his ponytail.

"It was fine," Yuuri slaps the table in frustration. "It was so normal that I'm kind of pissed off. He came over in the  _middle of the fucking_ _night_ , and left the next day after we had a talk and he just. Left! Like the nice guy he is." He slumps back on the wooden surface with a groan. "I've been writing these books out of spite for  _years_ , and he shows up all of the sudden, when we haven't said a word to each other and...he's still great. What the fuck is that?"

Celestino laughs lightly. "Why did you break up, then?"

"Because I'm an idiot and he's a Hollywood superstar," Yuuri grumbles over his messy notebook. "I don't know."

"Okay then," Celestino offers with a clap of his hands. "Do what you do best. Write about it."

"What? So you just want me to neglect my book to, like...vent more?" Yuuri gapes.

"Sure." The older man shrugs. "It's gonna be more helpful to your writing process overall, so I say go for it. Besides, you haven't even announced that you were writing a sequel to the last book, and everyone thought you were finished after the second. This could be your next big best seller."

Yuuri blanks at the thought. He drives home in a daze, narrowly avoids rear-ending someone, and gets back, hurriedly typing all of his thoughts down about Victor before they slip out of his head.

After an hour, the document vastly consists of a varieties of the sentence  _Victor is the biggest, most air-headed idiot in all of existence._  When he starts to run out of steam, he finally nails a good line. Much to his dismay, he can't remember if it's something Victor  _actually_ used to say to him or whether he made it up so that his vent-driven narrative would make sense.

 _"I know it's been a long day,_ _"_ The fictional Victor in his stupid word file says,  _"But we should talk about the finer things. No more blaming each other. No more worry. We should just have idle chatter_."

The fictional Yuuri spits back,  _"What do we do when the idle things are dead? What do we do when all that's left is just the two of us, sitting here in silence?"_

He saves the document and closes it after that, mostly because he never does remember what Victor said afterwards, in the real conversation that the fictional one is based off of.

//

He spends two more days lingering over the staggering fifteen  _thousand_ words he wrote down in that rant. Between opening another file and looking down at the piece of paper he's worried the edges of, he feels like he's slowly going insane thinking about Victor.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he quickly swigs down three glasses of red wine and texts the number.

> _th this is yu uri, sry lil tipsy_

_> are u still ni town?_

After he sends the message, he types a handful of sentences on his computer and feels his phone buzz in his lap. The sensation makes him yelp around his fourth glass and he nearly spills the alcohol on his keyboard.

> _Yes. My flight leaves the day after tomorrow_.

Yuuri jumps to reply.

_> we shodl_

_> *should meet up. ur turn to tlak_

_> *talk_

_> fair?_

Yuuri struggles to imagine what Victor is doing, taking so long to type back. Several minutes later, he finds out.

_> I agree that we should meet, but you should probably text me again in the morning when you're sober. I think that you'll be pretty frustrated that you sent this in the morning, and I don't want to meet with you if you're just going to be upset. Please let me know. I'll be waiting, okay?_

Yuuri grumbles down at his phone. "What, does he think I'm stupid?"

Out of spite, he texts back:

_> i m ont afrai d of u_

_> here's my fave cafe. eleven oclk. be there_

Victor's reply is immediate this time.

_> If you call me in the morning to complain, I'm within my rights to laugh at you._

Yuuri slaps out four or five more messy paragraphs before he passes out on his desk, nearly drooling on his laptop.

//

At nine in the morning, Yuuri blinks awake to two new texts.

One is from his good friend, Phichit, who is sending all kinds of emojis and asking about his work, which is nothing new.

The other is, amazingly, from Victor, and Yuuri squints down at his message, unsure why the man is texting him, or why he's somehow saved the number in his phone as  _hug asshole_ instead of what he assumes is supposed to be  _huge_. A quick glance through his old messages reveals the whole situation and Yuuri wants to  _die_.

He dials out with his face on fire, bringing a hand to his forehead. "Good morning."

"Morning," Victor yawns back in response, his accent as wonderfully lilting as always. "Although yours might not be particularly good."

"My recovery time is alright," Yuuri grunts back, "and I took two aspirin as soon as I got up."

Silence falls between them for a long moment and Victor hums. "So?"

Yuuri hesitates for just a moment before sighing and answering, "Let's go."

"Sorry?"

"To the coffee shop. We'll meet, you'll talk." Yuuri taps his finger on his laptop, remembering the miles of text spattered with jumbled angst about Victor, all written to clear his head. So far, it seems like doing that is working, because he doesn't feel so many thoughts buzzing in his head now. As much as he hates to admit it, Victor has become his biggest writing inspiration, if only out of a deep-rooted frustration with himself. "And before you ask, I'm not just going because I'm stubbornly keeping to my drunken promise. I really  _do_ think I should hear your side of the story." He says that last part with surprise, shocked to find the admittance true. "We still on for eleven?"

"Yeah, absolutely," Victor replies quietly. "I'm glad to hear that."

"Please stop," Yuuri says, unsure how he'd handle Victor being so nice to him from afar. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay."

Yuuri falls back in his chair after Victor hangs up, stunned at this turn of events.

Just hours ago, he'd been angrily ranting about all of the things that had made their relationship fall apart, and here he is, doing something that's a little bit like repairing it.

He feels like an idiot.

//

They find a seat and Yuuri waves to the baristas, who all know his order by heart. Once they get their drinks, the two of them briefly exchange pleasantries, and the moment awkward silence creeps up, Victor clears his throat and asks, "Would it be alright, if I talked now?"

Yuuri swallows thickly, willing his voice not to crack. "Sure. Go ahead. I'll be quiet."

"I always thought you were beautiful," Victor starts, immediately making his conversation partner flush. "When you came up and told me puns at that party, that was one of the best nights of my life. You were one of the first people who took me seriously when I said I wanted to be an actor, instead of telling me to have a backup plan, or saying that I would never make it." Victor fondly cradles the cup of coffee and smiles. "Then, you made me the luckiest man alive by asking me out on a date that night, and my life was never the same."

He rushes through talking about everything Yuuri already knows - that no matter how busy Victor had been when they started getting serious, no matter how often he traveled for shoots, he always came back to their apartment at the end of the day and spoiled his boyfriend materially as much as he could. He talks about how he'd been so blind as to not realize that Yuuri was fading at the edges in that last year of their partnership, refusing to demand so much of Victor's time even though that was all Victor really wanted from him.

"I didn't go about things the right way, I admit," Victor sheepishly murmurs. "I suppose, in a sick way, I  _wanted_ you to be jealous of my job. I wanted you to tell me to stop flirting with my coworkers and to make me stay home." He looks distraught at his own words. "Really, I was a fool."

"Why didn't you just," Yuuri choppily trips over the words, willing himself not to cry angry tears. "Why didn't you  _tell_ me? You knew how much I hated guessing. I hated all of that."

"I don't  _know_ , Yuuri," Victor snaps quietly. "I don't know. I was young and stupid and reckless, and I just didn't want anything to change. I thought things were...okay. I never thought I was making you upset. It was just...something we did. You'd say something, I'd test you to see how you'd react; push, pull, repeat."

"That's just it. You  _tested_ me," Yuuri mutters with full-bodied exhaustion. "You were my best friend and  _I loved you_ and you tested me."

"You were my best friend, too," Victor replies somberly, hanging his head. "I thought you knew me well enough to know that my feelings for you were never in question."

Silence falls between them for a few minutes, so they sip at their coffee.

Yuuri breaks it with a sigh. "You don't know what I would have paid to hear you say all this to me five years ago."

"Would it have really changed anything?" Victor laughs soullessly.

Yuuri's responding laugh is equally dry. "No. Probably not."

He looks up with steel in his eyes despite his trembling fingers. "Well, here I am. I'm ready to deal with the fallout. I want to talk to you until everything makes sense. I want to earn a friendship with you again." Victor pushes his hair out of his eyes and watches Yuuri's watery eyes meet his and he feels like crying too. "You were honestly the most interesting person I'd ever met back then, and I'd like to know you again." He holds out a hand with wobbly lips. "Victor Nikiforov."

Yuuri looks down at his hand and sucks in an unsteady breath. "Yuuri Katsuki. Pleasure to meet you."

They shake hands and Victor cry-laughs. "The pleasure is all mine."

//

Victor flies home on time and immediately texts Yuuri silly things. Updates on his travels. News about his dog. Memes that made him laugh on Instagram.

Between Yuuri's petty-as-fuck manuscript, which is getting outrageously long and dangerously teetering from angry to accepting, him snorting at Victor's messages, and Yuuri  _honest to fucking god_ texting his ex-boyfriend back, eagerly, his life has taken a sharp turn.

After several weeks of calling and texting Victor and falling into a routine he would almost dare to call comfortable, he has a miniature panic attack and slams on the call button for Phichit.

"I'm an idiot," Yuuri says the moment his friend says hello.

"Well, that's a hell of a greeting," the other man replies with a laugh. "I'm fine, thanks for asking, by the way."

"Yeah, yeah," Yuuri grunts.

"Alright, I'll bite. Why are you an idiot?"

"I've been talking to Victor," Yuuri answers him in a rush, face flushed and heart racing. "For like, a month now? A friend gave him my books and he read them after ages of trying not to and then he came to my house, in the middle of the night no less, and gave me his new number and—"

"Yuuri," Phichit calmly cuts him off. "You're mumbling. Slow down a little bit, would you? Victor came to see you, then what?"

Yuuri repeats what he'd just said before continuing, "The point is, we've been talking.  _Pleasantly_. Without fighting or anything. He has another break from production in a couple weeks and he's going to fly here so we can. Hang out." Yuuri groans. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever done.  _Ever_."

"You published a book because I told you that probably couldn't do it before the year was over," Phichit reminds him and Yuuri grumbles. "That was pretty stupid, even though it made you famous."

"You are the worst friend in the history of ever." Yuuri clicks through pictures on Instagram while he cradles the phone against his shoulder. "Back on topic. Meeting my ex? Probably a bad plan. Definitely. I still care about him and want him to succeed, please advise."

"Date him again," Phichit offers and Yuuri makes a startled sound high in his throat. "What? It wasn't a horrible breakup and you obviously still like the guy. What's the harm?"

"Who dates their ex? We're  _ex-boyfriends_ for a reason, Phichit, meaning that things didn't work out so well the first time, you know, when we were just  _boyfriends_." Yuuri leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, thoughts and heart racing. "I'm actually weighing the pros and cons now that you've said that and I'm concerned. This is horrible."

"Are there more pros than cons?"

Yuuri, much to his own frustration, admits that there are. "Our biggest problems were that he was always flying all over the place and he never spent enough time with me. He went out to a lot of parties, but it turns out that he didn't  _have_ to go, and he kind of went to make me admit that I was jealous. Which, petty, yes, I know, but..."

"Yuuri, you are literally _the_ pettiest person I know," Phichit purses his lips and cackles. Yuuri rolls his eyes. He's not wrong. "Obviously the two of you have that in common."

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Yuuri groans. "Who falls for a movie star twice?  _Twice_? I'm being so dumb."

"Hey, think about it this way," his friend hums. "Your other option is sitting around complaining that you can't think of anything to write. If everything turns out well, you'll be in Hollywood, which is like, holy mecca number two for great writers, second only to New York."

"Stop," Yuuri furiously shoves that intrusive thought out of his mind. "Moving too fast here, let's go back to the foreseeable things, please."

"Hot dates? Long distance? A healthy amount of alone time? He has a dog, you'll be rekindling your old flame, and - oh, come on, Yuuri, help me out here, I'm trying."

Yuuri goes silent as he thinks through the tangible truths his friend has just laid bare for him. "Okay. Okay, yeah. I mean, we're not even considering doing anything serious yet, but that helps a lot. Thanks, man."

"You're welcome."

//

Victor takes Yuuri out for what is only his  _second_ date since they broke up. They cackle about silly things in the news and chat about people who they interact with on a daily basis. It is fun, they don't rehash old arguments, and overall, they just get to know each other again.

At the end of the date, when Victor gets ready to go back to his hotel in a rental car, Yuuri flushes hot and sheepishly holds his arms open, averting his gaze. "Hug?"

Victor's blue eyes fly open and he all but runs into Yuuri's embrace, his breath shaky as they stand chest-to-chest. Victor pulls away after tapping Yuuri lightly on the forehead.

When Yuuri gets back, he sits down in front of his computer and opens a file named  _Reasons Victor Nikiforov Ruined My Life_   _(Working Title)._ He starts frantically typing.  _What the hell am I doing? What the ever-loving fuck am I doing; somebody please come and hit me with a truck._

Yuuri even finds himself offering to drive Victor to the airport if the other man wants to turn his car in early because he's seriously having that good a time seeing him, and the writer panics about just how quickly he's let Victor back into his heart.

He's funny, he's sweet. He brings Yuuri flowers every time he comes from the airport and they giggle about stupid things like reality television and cooking shows. When they ride to the airport, they sing horribly off-key with the music Yuuri plays and laugh until they cry.

They meet like this three times over three months before Yuuri fully admits to himself that he's really falling for Victor.  _Again_.

It occurs to him that if he doesn't want to watch Victor dash off with watery eyes and a sad wave that he's going to have to do more than just wax poetic about his sea-blue eyes and soft hands.

The fourth time Victor flies to Detroit, Yuuri picks him up from the airport. The younger man asks, "Are you serious about this? About me?" His palms burn on the steering wheel as he speaks through gritted teeth, terrified that he's going to say no.

"Yes," Victor breathes softly, tenderly, his voice full of affection. He sounds like he could cry and that breaks Yuuri's heart. "Absolutely."

"You really want to give this another shot," Yuuri says, and it isn't exactly a question or a statement. "I screwed up so badly last time."

"That doesn't mean we have to screw it up this time," Victor reassures him, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. He's been very reserved, as Yuuri remembers him being an incredibly tactile person. "It wasn't just your fault. I was equally responsible."

Yuuri shakes in his seat, pulls the car into park, and locks eyes with Victor. He holds out his hand, waits for Victor to lace their fingers together after he nods his approval, and watches a smile bloom on Victor's face. "Alright. Let's do this, then."

Victor holds on like Yuuri will float away if he pulls away. Dreamily, he whispers, "Is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?"

"No," Yuuri replies softly, leaning forward so that their faces are close. They both lean their weight on the car's console and their lips meet softly, angling so that Yuuri's round nose and Victor's sharp one do not collide at all. It's a practiced art, and even though they've been apart six years, it feels just like it did when they were together before, warm and passionate.

Victor hums, pleased, and asks, "Tongue?"

Yuuri rolls his eyes, but he leans in again and licks Victor's lips slyly. "Don't push it." They languidly French kiss in Yuuri's car for five minutes before Victor hurries into the lobby of his hotel, waving Yuuri goodbye with all of his strength.

//

The week they cement their new relationship flies by too quickly and both men lament.

On the day Victor flies back to the west coast, he checks out of his hotel early, having received permission from Yuuri to hang at his house and he hurries to accept the invitation. He rides, watching the surroundings fly by in a happy daze, absently snapping pictures of the blurry landscape.

When they get there, Yuuri mumbles something about Victor helping himself to food and beverages. He slumps on the couch with his laptop, squinting at the screen even though he has his glasses on. Victor sits next to him silently on the couch until Yuuri stops typing and turns to him with a soft smile. "I've never seen you so afraid to touch me."

"It's hard to restrain myself," Victor mumbles, "but you're worth it. I don't want to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

"Weren't you the one who told me I needed to express myself more?" Yuuri raises a brow and pats the gaping space between them. "I officially give you express permission to cuddle with me."

Victor gasps and sidles up to him, and Yuuri goes fully red in the face as Victor wraps his arms around his waist and takes a deep breath. "I'm so glad. God, I missed you so much."

Yuuri fights off his embarrassment and murmurs, "Yeah, I guess I missed you too." He adjusts so that he can type properly while Victor cradles him in his arms.

"Are you writing the next novel in your series?" Victor voice is a warm rumble against his back and Yuuri smiles at the sensation.

"Nope," Yuuri snickers. "It's something totally different."

"I'm sure it will dazzle the world, whatever it is." Victor hums and Yuuri hums back. They part with great reluctance, and, for the first time, Yuuri is sad for the distance that separates them.

//

Celestino beams when he reads Yuuri's latest manuscript. "Now  _this_ is what I'm talking about! This is amazing. You know you've almost written two hundred pages of material these last six months, and it feels like you're almost at the conclusion. How does it end? Does the couple work it out despite all the frustrations, or does the narrator finally drop him because her fiancé is always gallivanting off to handle business?"

"God, I don't fucking know." Yuuri barks out a laugh. "Stop dicking around, Celestino, you know this is based on my real life. I changed the names a little, but it's just me and my...whatever the hell he is."

"Your  _Serious Enough to Write A Book About Getting Back Together With Him_?" Celestino offers with a waggle of his eyebrows and Yuuri groans. "It's a good book, Yuuri. Really good. Your anxiety is present, well-managed, and enrapturing, but the narrative is also hopeful. It's probably your best work."

Yuuri bows his head and bridges his fingers. "You think I could publish this? Like, seriously?"

"Definitely," Celestino promises him, patting him on the shoulder. "It'll be a best seller."

Yuuri smiles softly. "Big talk."

"I have faith in you," the older man says smugly. "Do you have faith in _yourself_?"

The answer, of course, is no.

Yuuri's never had that, and he probably never will.

//

He finishes in the middle of winter and he books an impulse flight like a certain obnoxious moron he knows (and loves), and he shows up in L.A. without a damn clue as to what he's supposed to do. After having a small panic attack and running himself through the rigors of trying to find a sensible solution, he texts Victor and says,  _I want to send you a postcard, what's your address?_ He is in fact so good at thinking through all the stupidly mundane details that he even bothers to make sure his phone is still on Eastern Standard when he sends it so Victor thinks he's at home.

Victor texts him back almost immediately. Yuuri gives him his thanks, hails a cab, sits through atrociously bad Los Angeles traffic, finally arriving at a suburb not far from Beverly Hills. Luckily, he doesn't have to suffer the humiliation of going through security and squeaking out his name for sharply dressed men and women in black; he just rolls up with his small bag and presses the bell at the gate at nine p.m., and he just hopes to god that Victor is home like he usually is by this time.

Victor opens the door in his jeans and an old woolen sweater Yuuri had gotten him a hundred years ago, back in the initial-relationship days. The tall, Russian man gapes at Yuuri, who immediately holds out his completed manuscript in shorts and a t-shirt, because even the middle of winter in L.A. is  _leagues_ warmer than Detroit. "It's finished and I wanted you to be the first person to read it." After a pause, he turns and mutters, "Well, after my editor, of course, but you get the point." Yuuri steps forward, smiling as Victor's eyes follow him. "And stop staring at me, I'm not going anywhere."

" _Whaa_ ," Victor eloquently stammers as he closes the gate behind them and Yuuri snorts. "When did you get here?"

"Just now. I came straight from the airport," Yuuri says with a teasing lilt. "I was smart enough to come before two in the morning."

"I'm, wow, okay?" As soon as the taller man processes that this isn't a dream, he lavishes Yuuri with wet kisses and excitedly flips through the final draft of the manuscript. "Thanks for coming. How long will you stay?"

"A couple weeks," Yuuri says with a sigh, looking up at Victor with bright eyes. "Unless that's not okay with you, or something. I still have time to go to a hotel."

"I'd love to have you," Victor gushes happily, pulling Yuuri into his expansive kitchen with a smile. "I can take you to one of the guest rooms so you can put down your things."

Yuuri tugs on his wrist with a flush creeping up to his ears, mumbling, "I was thinking...I could, um, sleep with _you_. Tonight."

"What the? You're being so _cute._ " Victor flushes back in return. "Yes, of course. You're always welcome to go to switch rooms if I make you uncomfortable, but I'd be delighted."

"I'm going to go change into my pajamas," Yuuri says as he fights down his blush and kisses Victor quickly on the lips. "Would you get started on reading that, please? I wanted to make sure you liked it before I give Celestino the green light to take it to the press."

"Sure," Victor answers dreamily, plopping down in his recliner to open the messy stack of printer paper hastily stapled together.

Yuuri comes back and makes both of them coffee as the night slips into the wee hours, nodding off while Victor tears through his novel voraciously. He's startled awake by Victor shaking him around three a.m., drool falling from his lips. He pushes his glasses onto his nose and yawns, blinking as Victor bores a hole into him.

"That was beautiful." Victor is crying a bit and Yuuri feels bad, immediately straightening his back and pulling the sobbing Victor into his arms. "Of course I want you to publish it. It's wonderful."

"Even all those pages where I was yelling at you?"

"You get fussy with me all the time," Victor says, his hands tightly bundled in Yuuri's t-shirt. "I'm honored, truthfully. That book felt like the most open and honest you've ever been with me, and I'm grateful to have read it. I wish I could write even half as well, to reciprocate."

"All it takes is years of practice and a healthy dose of self-loathing," Yuuri jokingly says, and Victor clicks his tongue. "Sorry. I'm trying to work on that second thing, as you know."

"I love you anyways."

"Which part did you like the most?"

Victor thinks for a long moment, then pulls back to look at Yuuri with an exuberant expression. "That scene, with the couple, where they are talking about what to do when the easy part of the relationship - the lounging, the fun, the idle chatter - is done. The protagonist's love interest said things that sound an awful lot like something I would have said back then."

"I'm pretty sure you  _did_ ," Yuuri murmurs exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. "I wrote that based on one of the last conversations we had before we broke things off."

"Well, the fictional version of me was stupid. He didn't finish with the signature words."

"What?" Yuuri frowns. "What signature words?"

" _In idle silence is where the beauty of a real relationship lies_ ," Victor speaks from his diaphragm, but he immediately breaks from his serious rendition with a giggle. "Or something like that. Basically, those quiet times, where one can think back and remember, ahh, I fell in love with them because of this - those are the best times." Victor kisses the crown of Yuuri's head and smiles fondly. "Since you're an introvert, I had to learn to think differently about your silence, but I learned to love it. I still love it. I still love  _you_ , regardless of what you're doing, or saying, or writing."

Yuuri starts crying at that, running his fingers absently over Victor's sides. "Not fair. I love you too, stupid, but I'm not good at thinking of cool things like that on the spot. Give me a week to write it down."

"No! Then you'll come up with some best selling poem," Victor teases, ruffling Yuuri's hair. "So, when will you give Celestino the good news?"

"Later," Yuuri replies softly, yawning as they drag themselves to Victor's bedroom and flop sleepily under the covers. They curl up so that Yuuri is the big spoon and Victor is the little spoon, his dog jumping on the foot of the bed as soon as they enter the room. "When humans are supposed to be awake."

"Good night," Victor says quietly, simply glowing at their shared proximity.

Yuuri smiles against his shoulder blades, whispering back, "Good night."

//

Yuuri calls to tell Celestino to go ahead and publish _The_ _Jolt_ , but he revises the close of the novel just slightly.

He pets Makkachin and murmurs happily to the dog while Victor fails to cook him breakfast.

Absently, he wonders if this could be his life every day, and dreams of how ecstatic he might be if it was.

//

After six more months of dashing from one side of the country to another, Victor exhaustedly asks Yuuri to move in with him and Yuuri accepts. They both promise to be more honest and trusting with each other than last time, and Yuuri notes that he'll vocalize as many of his desires as he can. Victor says he'll do the same, but notes that this sounds really kinky, which mostly results in Yuuri guffawing and slapping him on the arm.

Around the time Yuuri gets started on figuring out the best way to sell his small house and get packed up, Celestino sends him a message. 

> _Publication goes live in two weeks. Here are your ten copies. You have three events in Detroit to attend before you leave, but they're all pretty close together, and then you can hurry off to LA and sign copies there while the hype is still high._

Yuuri texts back,  _Okay, thanks_ , then huffs as he takes a look at all of his junk.

Moving is such a huge pain, and he struggles to remember why he broke up with Victor and moved out of their old apartment in the first place if it had been this much trouble.

When he grumbles to Phichit, he says, "I'm an idiot," which is his usual greeting, but he sounds a lot less depressed when he says the words these days.

//

It is Autumn when Yuuri finishes all of his work in Detroit and pays for a moving company to take his things to L.A. He flies back to Victor and greets him at the airport even though a few people are watching from a distance and trying to see if it truly is superstar Victor Nikiforov picking up another man at the airport or just a lookalike. They speed off before anyone can take good pictures, though, and Yuuri laughs at Victor's frustrated grumbling, trying to keep Yuuri to himself and out of the public eye.

"It's okay, Victor," Yuuri says, putting his hand over Victor's on the console. "We weren't private when you were getting started, and we shouldn't be now. If we sneak around, the media will just start obnoxious rumors."

"You're sure?" Victor purses his lips.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Yuuri replies softly, rolling his eyes. "I wrote a  _book_ about us, for god's sake. Pretty damn sure."

Victor laughs heartily at that. "Truly, there is nothing more telling than a novel."

"Life imitates art, and vice versa," Yuuri admits easily, sinking into his seat as they pass by rows of palm trees and go over deeply sloped hills. "So our life better be damn great, because I'm gonna be tired as hell after doing all these book events for the next year."

"And so it shall be, my liege," Victor agrees with his stage voice and Yuuri rolls his eyes again. "Better make that two years. It's a very good book."

"Yeah," Yuuri replies softly, taking pride in his work for what is possibly the first time ever. "It kind of is, isn't it?"

"Yes." Victor grins as he remotely opens the gate of his home and pulls into the garage. "Definitely."

//

_Excerpt from TV 24's interview with the author of the best selling novel, "The Jolt", Yuuri Katsuki—_

24: What inspired you to write this book?

Katsuki: A lot of things. I was still pretty torn over a past relationship and I struggled with body image and my self-esteem. This started as a way for me to rant until my head was clear, and it eventually got shaped into the story you see today.

24: I see. That's very interesting. So, what led you to the conclusion of your novel?

Katsuki: Life changed. ( _Laughs._ ) I still have a lot of the same issues, but I gave love another shot. It went better this time.

24: So this relationship helped you get over that past heartbreak.

Katsuki: Definitely. I'm sort of a creature of habit, so I fell in love with the same person twice.

24: Wow! Well, I for one say it's changed you for the better. Your writing in your latest work was nothing short of inspiring.

Katsuki: Thanks. I'm really flattered.

_To be continued on page 49._

_//_

Victor and Yuuri's home is often a fucking pigsty.

They do all their dishes, of course, but the laundry is a chore they shun until it gets to dire straights. Both of them are wealthy enough to hire someone to clean the house, but they both admit that they'd feel obnoxious taking advantage of their status to have someone do small things like that.

Victor tries to keep his movie-related wining and dining to a maximum of two events per month, asking Yuuri if he'd like to be his plus one in case the younger man is feeling adventurous now that they're fully public. Yuuri  _accepts_ sometimes, much to his delight, but he tends to shyly keep to the walls or Victor's side, feeling uncomfortable otherwise.

On the other hand, Victor goes with Yuuri to as many book signings and talks as he can possibly squeeze into his schedule. As it nears the summer, he runs out of opportunities because he has to be near the set in case he's abruptly called for filming. It's still a mess, and Victor and Yuuri lose their tempers, but they talk their way through every issue slowly, taking the time to understand where the other man is coming from before snapping and leaving these conversations angry.

Yuuri is oddly proud to discover that  _The Jolt_ has topped his other novel sales by over twenty million at the six month mark. There are plans for it to be translated into Japanese, French, and Russian so far, two out of the three of those being made possible because he and Victor had pushed for them so hard.

Still, most of his nights are quiet and warm, wrapped up with Victor, who loves to shower him with kisses and lavish his naked, soft curves with affection.

"The most beautiful man in the world is all mine," Victor hums against Yuuri's spine and Yuuri giggles.

"Wrong," Yuuri coos back, flitting fingers through Victor's hair and rubbing his fingers over Victor's sharp shoulders. "He's _mine_."

"Well, one of us is just going to have to compromise," the taller man huffs, immediately tickling Yuuri until his glasses are skewed and there are tears in his eyes.

They fall quiet and appreciate the silence together until they fall asleep.

//

**_The Jolt_ **

_A woman searches for herself, and gets lost, becoming furious with an old lover._ _When the famous businessman sweeps back into town holding nothing but a bundle of flowers, she quietly turns him away._   _But as he goes, she keeps wondering - had he once been_ _terrified of this same silence and resistance all those years ago?_

 _Delve into this highly emotional journey of a book by best-selling novelist **Yuuri Katsuki**_ _, author of the Rust series._

 _Yuuri lives in Los Angeles with his parter, actor Victor Nikiforov and their dog, Makkachin. Please send_ _all messages to the following email and all physical mail to the address below._

_(Both men ask that you do not send anything that Makkachin cannot eat, because he gets into their mail and he has a sensitive stomach. He adores treats. Yuuri and Victor like treats too.)_

_Harcover, USD $24.99._

**Author's Note:**

> i made myself cry and now you can join me for exactly zero dollars and zero cents ;A;
> 
> i *know* ep 12 is gonna be the lit but for now im just. gonna lie on the floor,,,
> 
> thx for reading ♥
> 
> feel free to send me fic requests and/or cry with me on tumblr [@wbtrashking](http://wbtrashking.tumblr.com/)


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